


two sides to every penny

by fossilizedbirds (pigeonsatdawn)



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Again, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Enemies to Allies to Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Heavy symbolism, I AM BACK, I Tried, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have a problem, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Kinda?, Light Angst, Pain, Post-Season/Series 01, SIMP!Kieran, What Have I Done, literally a literary analysis, she done diddly done it, she's done it y'all, she's overdone herself, so much details, that tag is a lie, this is the first and last time i'm ever gonna write something poetic, with more of my crap, you are going to be Bored or Mad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonsatdawn/pseuds/fossilizedbirds
Summary: and a penny for every epiphany.
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	two sides to every penny

**Author's Note:**

> you _will_ be annoyed. you _have_ been warned.
> 
> hereby i daringly present to you an even more vivid image of a humane kieran white.
> 
> it's a lame attempt at writing something poetic, and i will never do such an abhorrence ever again.

**THERE are two sides** to every penny:

the heads, represented by the national emblems,

and the tails, in which its value is denoted.

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the double-edged sword that separated them, the silver lining between either one’s death. (It is quite the miracle both of them came out alive). Though the sword itself is symmetrical, both edges identical, neither side is similar in the slightest.

One is the side of the criminals, the one you’d call the “dark side”. The one who wields the sword stood within the shadows, amongst corrupt people, amongst killers, people like himself. More accurately, they are the “monsters” crawling the streets at night. His hand, gripping the hilt of the sword, is stained with blood; he, of the crime he’d just committed.

The other edge of the sword digs into the skin of the one on the side of the law, the side which fought against the other. The one who reinforces the safety of the people against the criminals—though, as their current predicament illustrated, it is clear which side was the losing side. The mask that symbolizes her identity as an officer of the law has been stripped off her face, revealing her eyes, glinting electric yellow, shock apparent. They meet those of the assassin’s; vividly cerulean under the moonlight, with the reflection provided by the silver of the sword.

Two sides of the war, separated by two fatal edges of a single blade. All he has to do is push the blade, and he is finished.

He hesitates.

They are opposites, and yet so alike in so many ways. Even before he realizes it, he feels it from the glint in her eye: 

_Purpose._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the handshake that formed the union in which they were to work together under. (Neither have seen it coming, but in all the laws of logic, it only made sense that an optimal coalition requires representatives from both extremes of the spectrum.) A deal, solidified through the cuts of two different blades, mix of two different bloods.

One is an officer with limited knowledge on the Phantom Scythe, the syndicate binding the criminals of the other’s like. She comes with doubts, dead-ends, but most of all: with desperation, upon pursuit of the truth that didn’t seem to exist. With her hand on her gun, she is prepared, though she shoots with questions instead.

The other one answers with half-truths, with full knowledge of the officer’s lie-detecting abilities, and partial knowledge of the syndicate itself. He tells the officer everything she needs to know, and keeps to himself what she does not. He clarifies through a set of rules that their partnership is to be on the basis of sharing information, and only of the Phantom Scythe; no more, no less. She adds to the rules, specifying her boundaries.

Two sides of the law, each with their personal reasons to bring down the syndicate, specifically the leader. He extends his hand, blood spilling from the cut.

She slices and offers her own palm.

They shook, a bond forming over a common goal. Their bloods coalesce, dripping on the pavement.

_Partnership._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the duo who calls themselves Lune, the ones the people of Ardhalis refer to as vigilantes. (It was only unfortunate both their roots—the syndicate and the police department—wanted them dead more than anything.) Each of them does what they do best, their abilities complementing each other perfectly, resulting in their successful interrogation.

Kieran White is known for being the cold, clean, ruthless assassin terrorizing the streets of the city. Earning the nickname of Purple Hyacinth from the flowers he leaves in his murders, he is not the best assassin in the Phantom Scythe for no reason: he is meticulous and merciless, not hesitating to do what he has to do in order to get what he wants. A blade right on the corner of the suspect’s eye, he squeezes out the words out McTrevor’s mouth with little effort, interrogation accompanied by his usual flair of theatrics.

Lauren Sinclair, though, is ultimately how they got the real information out of the suspect, with her past experience as a detective and her exceptional ability to detect when one is lying. When the assassin finishes his dramatic idea of an intimidation, she cuts to the chase and tells McTrevor what they want to know, and all the reasons he should tell them. She spares no sympathy, pays no mind to his fears, and closes the investigation as soon as she gets the information they need. She need not lay a single hand on the suspect to elicit the truth out of him, and in the same night, earns an amateur subordinate.

Two sides of an interrogation, one method quite more effective than the other. Kieran White cannot deny that this new partnership of theirs, courtesy of his brilliant mind, has yielded more than his own investigation of seven years.

He suppresses a smile.

The pair leaves through the window, fading into the moonlight, seconds before policemen come to arrest the convict.

_Progress._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the woman with flames over her head, sparks in her eyes. (Arguably there are more than two sides to a person, but these two sides oppose each other so much, it is hard to believe both belong to a single person.) Lauren Sinclair has two main emotions, stemming from a common root, serving as the driver of her actions for the past ten years.

To the world Lauren Sinclair appears as the hot-headed, annoyingly stubborn officer who works hard to uphold the law. She works day and night to the point of overworking herself, not giving her body a chance to rest, to replenish. She risks her position for what she believes is right, and does not let it be a deterrent to her goals in life. She doesn’t bother herself with irrelevant things, focusing her energy on her work, and on caring for her friends who she is loyal to. She takes simple joys in seeing a happy citizen, and her bickering best friends.

But behind the strong facade lies her vulnerable side; one haunted by events of the past. A side in which both happy dreams and nightmares haunt her, along with the endless guilt of what she failed to do. Feelings of no control and helplessness fill her every step as she discovers a new truth about the past. And though she tries to cover this side with her stronger one, ultimately, Lauren Sinclair is one who wears her heart on her sleeve, and fragments of her invisible scars become achingly visible under specific circumstances.

It breaks loose, and their plans go unravelled. The assassin doesn’t appreciate the moment of weakness. 

She crumbles.

He doesn’t see it. He shouldn’t. She makes the mistake of blurring the boundary they made, and it nearly cost her her life.

_Pretense._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the man whose cyan orbs contrast with stark clarity the crimson blood splattered over his face. (This is not to say one justifies the other—at least, not under the law.) On both sides his hands are coated in blood, but the reasons could not be further apart.

Kieran White is a murderer, and he doesn’t try to redeem himself for his crimes. He does not justify his acts to the public—he does not _care_ —as long as it gets him a step closer to the leader, for him to kill himself. He plays the perfect role of the leader’s favorite pet, killing only whoever the leader instructs and whoever obstructs him from his goal. This, too, is a selfish aspect of himself: even though he bears no desire to convince anyone of his remaining humanity, he sets limits in his crimes to keep him grounded, to remind himself that he is, above all, still human in nature.

The first exception is the night he kills to save the officer’s life. The second is, rather than patching himself, he ends up stitching the wounds of the same officer. He brings her to his apartment, the closest thing he has to a home, gives her a room to sleep the night in, brings her the uniform she needs to go to work in. The Purple Hyacinth who doesn’t spare lives, tending to her needs more than he does to his own. 

He brushes it off with condescending humor, like he always does, but even he cannot ignore the truth: that she is his exception.

He falters.

He doesn’t know whether he likes this side of him, but he knows one thing: the two sides cannot coexist. He cannot be human to her, not when he’s taken the lives of so many.

_Paradox._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the rift that formed between Lauren Sinclair and Kieran White, the chasm a result of each of their outbursts. (Many overlook one in favor of the other, though it is quite unfair to do so.) Two tectonic plates, sliding with the massive force of friction, still trembling long after they break apart.

Lauren Sinclair is one step closer to finding out the truth that had been concealed to her for the last decade. The answer is to be provided to her by one of the convicts they caught, rotting in the prison tower. She would have that answer by now, if not for said convict being dead— _murdered_ , rather, alongside all the other convicts they caught, and a whole bunch of guards on the way to the 15th floor of the prison tower. All of them, dead, by the sword of none other than her _partner_ , the one she has come to trust, after going through thick and thin, hand in hand.

Kieran White has broken so much of his own rules for his partner in crime, for better or for worse. He kills when he shouldn’t, and heals when he doesn’t. Perhaps he could defy the leader’s orders to kill their convicts; where’s the harm in breaking another rule? But he doesn’t want to break the rules _they_ made in the deal: from him, no personal matters. From her, she stays out of his Phantom Scythe biddings. So he keeps it from her, even though he knows she has something personal against one of the convicts. He shouldn’t be sympathetic to her personal problems to begin with. It is all but part of their deal.

The assassin, a monster; the officer, a hypocrite. This time around, the apathetic physical violence overpowers the burning screams.

She struggles to breathe.

When they shake again, it isn’t in agreement. They break the deal, back to square one, as lone wolves with their own reasons to take down the Phantom Scythe.

_Partition._

◯

 **THERE were two kids,** both victims of an entity, of crimes done many many years ago. (There were plenty of kids who fell victim to the very same entity, but none of them turned up to be in such extreme poles like these two, in particular, did.) An explosion for an origin, quite literally, pushed the two apart to opposite poles, only to work their way back to the origin; one for revenge, the other to avenge.

The boy had his entire life taken away at an age where he was old enough to comprehend, but not enough to survive. Alone and without guidance, he was thrown into the shadows against his will, and within a few years he’d been carved into the life of a monster, the way acid bites down on stone, the way pressure molds the clay that is yet to set. But more than learning the ways of crime—how to kill without hesitation, how to leave no trace, how to hide in the shadows—the adolescent learned the art of acting. He taught himself how to act as a pawn, even when his mind was running a million miles an hour on ways to get revenge; he learned to tread along the fine line of hate, immersing himself in it enough to fuel him, but not too much that it burns him instead; he willed himself a reminder of how he ended up in his predicament in the first place, to maintain a balance of who he was and who he became—because even if he’d lost everything, he wasn’t going to give up the only thing left he had: his own memories, _feelings_ of the past.

He’s mastered the art of capturing these images on paper with a stick of graphite in hand. The drawings become his anchor, keeping him rooted in his human side. Every night, if he isn’t holding a sword with a gloved hand, he allows his emotion to spill through the pencil all over the paper, and stains his hands with carbon instead of someone else’s blood. Lately, he draws whatever he sees, because lately, more than ever, there isn’t much of humanity going around. That was, other than his own feelings as a human, which the unsuspecting officer has somehow managed to dig out of the layers of murders under which he’s buried it. A sketch of the officer lies on top of one of the mountains of drawings he’s drawn, one of the best instances in which he is able to capture the human essence on paper.

The girl had her skill of hearing lies for as long as she can remember, and yet the one time it mattered the most, it failed her, and proceeded to haunt her for the rest of her life. She was cursed with the gift of knowing the lies, yet being exceedingly blind to the truth, and the curse haunted her until present time. In order to absolve herself of her self-imposed guilt, she devoted the subsequent years to find the truth behind the lies of the terrorists who took away her childhood friend, and avenge him in the process. She honed her investigative abilities, disguising her lie-detection under well-thought inferences and logic to be used by the law to rid the streets of the monsters, the likes of the ones that haunted her nightmares and days on duty. It failed her once, and it was catastrophic, but if anything it pushed her to work harder to earn back her position

Except, in her endless hunt, instead she discovers more unwanted truth, one that links to the death of her parents. Very belatedly, she realizes that she may have lost more than just one loved one that gruesome night. Though she’s been searching for a decade now, she finds that she’s barely even scraped the surface of the real mystery. So she goes back to the past, one she does not remember herself, one that lies in boxes buried up in the attic. She spends her nights out of work with more paperwork, once belonging to her parents, absorbing every information she reads, because at this point, she does not know what is relevant and not anymore.

Piles of drawings and piles of documents, locked away in their respective homes. The rooms contain scattered grains of lost history, giving them very good reason to remain locked.

They stare at the bright full moon through their curtains.

Tossing and turning on their beds doesn’t help prevent the cold seeping under their skin. Neither ends up falling asleep that night.

_Past._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the failed transmission, and consequently, the covert operation, of the meeting in the Carmine Camellia. (In retrospect, the failure could be traced back to their own mistake of failing to communicate with each other beforehand.) Two wraiths in the night, prepared for a quiet reconnaissance, instead having to brawl each other out over the rooftops they were so accustomed to.

Two nights prior, Lauren Sinclair had sneaked into the high-end restaurant, planting a bug in one of the vases after finding the reserved room under the name of Flemmings, one of the Phantom Scythe associates attending the meeting. Now, after a struggle with a certain peacock and a few more unimaginable truths, she perches up on a roof close to the meeting room, headphones over her ear, a pencil and notebook ready in hand. She manages to jot down a few notes regarding the Seventh Apostle’s plans, before her transmitter fails on her, and she decides to get in closer proximity to the room.

Enter a certain ninja: Kieran White, clad in the red of stop signs. The moment he turns on his own transmitter, his bug ceases to work and static noise fills his ears. Having situated himself quite far from the location of the bug, he makes his way silently towards the direction of the Scythe members, only to find a mirrored image of himself, except the other spy happens to be in black. The revelation of a potential enemy leads to a rooftop chase reminiscent of their first one, with flying shurikens and daggers in place of sugar and spice.

Two phantoms, and now she’s got the upper hand, a hold on the hilt of the blade, with him pinned to the ground.

She halts.

With a common goal and almost equal information, they are bound to walk the same steps. As much as she hates it, it is inevitable that they work with each other once more.

_Parallel._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the compromise Kieran White offers as a reinstatement of their broken deal. (It is impossible for them to go on under the same set of rules, given how it turned up the last time.) He reiterates the ground rules and alters some of its details, voicing how he thinks it is best to cooperate without killing each other before reaching their end goal.

The first side is on the nature of their original partnership: they are to share every piece of information they have, ones they obtain through their own means. Everything he knows, she knows. He amends it— _asserts_ , rather—such that this extends to information she may think is only personally related, because every information distantly related to the Phantom Scythe may serve as clues to a plausible theory, and the identity of the leader. He gives his word to not pry on her personal history more than he has done, in exchange for hers to inform him of any information she has on the Phantom Scythe’s previous acts. In addition, to avoid the incident of the Prison Tower, he has decided that he will inform her of everything he’ll be instructed to do from then on, so as to give more insight into the leader’s possible plans as well.

This addition does not come without a slight price on the officer’s safety, and so the assassin has some difficulty in voicing out the other side of their new deal. As much as they need to keep things impersonal, they need to maintain a trust when it comes to each other’s lives, in its most literal sense. He needs to know, for sure, that they were in this _together_ , that one would not let the other burn to stay alive, for whatever reason. He needs to make sure that they’ve got each other’s backs, and won’t turn around with a knife in hand. They have progressed in such a way that they can’t be indifferent any longer: they were either together, or against each other, and he wants to make sure that it’s the former.

He hands her his life, in exchange for her tentative trust—trust that he would not harm hers, and here, he means life in every sense of the word.

He does not offer her a hand.

Neither does she, but she makes it clear that this will have to do. He knows she doesn’t trust him at all yet, but he’ll take what he can get.

_Proposal._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the apology that comes out from Lauren Sinclair’s mouth, one she does not expect to utter. (For someone as stubborn as herself, it is quite an achievement in respect to her growth as a person.) It is much easier to be objective of the assassin when she is not the subject of his personal outburst.

The Phantom Scythe’s favorite weapon does what he does best and does it the best, like he always does. Like their previous interrogations as Lune, she watches as he fiddles with the blade like it’s an instrument, striking it against the suspect where it hurts. This time, he skips the theatrics; they’re running out of time, both before the APD gets there, and before the secret operation makes their next move. But later she sees the real reason he’s being especially cold to the man bound in ropes, sparing him no inch of untainted skin, and that is because the men recognize each other from a different time. Even as she watches him, cutthroat and inhuman to someone he used to cherish, she _understands_. She begins to understand the things that trigger him, because if she is in his position, she knows she’ll do the same, and even more.

So she is surprised to find out that the reason he withholds himself from doing more—from killing one of the demons of his past then and there—is none other than herself. From him she earns full truths, as opposed to his usual half-truths: he is honoring the deal he’s proposed. He is doing this the right way, the way of the law, in respect to her ideals. He does not want to break his principle, not in front of her. He is not going to repeat the same mistake that has scarred her once. And then, the unwritten conclusion, clear as day: he is making amends for the trust he broke. This, she does not fully understand, but it is also this that reveals a new truth she’d assumed to be false: her partner had cared for her, and she’d hurt him first. Yet he still cares for her, even if it is in his own way.

She has received an apology from him for that incident, one clear of lies, yet it never occurs to her to do the same.

She apologizes.

She learns the truth about the Purple Hyacinth: he is both a heartless murderer, and a human with a heart of his own. But he is not a monster.

_Penance._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the people on the hunt for Kieran White and Lauren Sinclair. (They can only keep up the act in front of their provenances for so long.) Both know that it is only about time until they get cornered, and the incident in Greychapel serves as a reminder for that impending reality.

To one side, this is but a loss among many. The Phantom Scythe is home to not only dangerous killers, but also plenty of betrayal and backstabbing, so it isn’t much of a surprise to have an assassin turning his back on the syndicate. It is only unfortunate that the assassin happens to be their best, and one thought to be on the loyal side, considering his reputation of executing his orders in record time, no matter how seemingly impossible for a mere human, all without being caught for the past seven years. The Phantom Scythe is a group filled with the most inhumane of humans; perhaps it is why they fail to understand the human nature of motivation and determination, essential components to achieving exceptional feats. Their solutions, likewise, are straightforward: direct elimination, though it will undoubtedly take some effort to eliminate such an arsenal as the Purple Hyacinth himself.

To the other, though, this is an anomaly at its best. It isn’t rare for spies to exist in the ranks of the APD, but it will take a lot to explain the behaviors of Officer Sinclair, who is known to be one of the most hard working officers out there, battling against justice day to day with no rest. Unfortunately for the officer, the captain happens to have a personal vendetta against her and has a wounded pride, so he does not bother with the explanation and the reasons, opting instead to jail her immediately upon capture. Not only that, she has betrayed the trust of the people who she works with, but more than that, the trust of her own best friends, even though her true intention is to protect them from what might happen to them, what might happen to _her_. She has lost enough people in her life to lose more, tormented herself with enough guilt to earn more.

He knows this, and he knows that if he hasn’t made the deal with her that night, she wouldn’t have gotten herself in this situation. 

He forms a plan, alone.

He pleads to the gods for their pity, even if he hates it. He has made a personal promise, and he intends to keep it this time. 

_Prayer._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the relationship between Lauren Sinclair and Kieran White, one that has gone through massive changes in the past few weeks. (They’ve explored nearly everything that can be experienced amongst two.) Two equally strong feelings, the passion of one turning to the other to the point neither can deny it any longer.

Hate runs the veins of the officer, a natural reaction to all things amoral. She does not bother to play civilized with the assassin, arguing with him every chance she gets, making clear that she does not want more to do with him than what they have to do. Even though she is hot-tempered in nature, no one stirs her up more than Kieran White does, managing to elicit the worst side of her. He’s made her scream in anger, in terror, in pain, and she has every reason in the world to hate him. 

The assassin, however, has no reason in the world to hate her. He can’t, even if he wants to. The officer is righteous, steadfast, and kind hearted, a jarring contrast to his own personality. No one warms his cold-blooded self the way Lauren Sinclair does. He finds himself entranced by bouts of her agonizing humanity, etching every little feature he sees in his mind: her often tense jaw, the hair she messes with every once so often, her soft lips uttering the sharpest of words, but most of all, her eyes that pierced a soul he thought had died long ago. He never would have seen this coming: his heart beating to life; an unidentifiable attraction to the woman.

They stand in the center of his cave, bloodied and battered. They don’t have time, and yet they are paused in time. 

Kieran is looking at her intently, for a reason she does not understand. There is a lot she doesn’t understand about him. But she knows: he will not make a move. He does not dare touch her.

Lauren does not dare speak. She will not say anything. She is scared of what she’ll say if she opens her mouth. They are close. They are way too close. 

She hates him. She wants him. The walls amplify her thoughts. Her heart is louder.

She moves.

It is too late. They are faster. He is even faster, and instead of his lips against hers, she faces the sight of her precinct against her with a blade against her throat.

_Pressure._

◯

 **THERE are two sides** to the ill fate that intertwines the man who utters half truths, and the woman who notices the lies. (In the end, it all comes down to this.) They need each other, yet they cannot be together.

In the end, Kieran White is the Purple Hyacinth. He’s changed, of course. He does not brutally murder the officer in front of her comrades in cold blood. Thanks to their extensive history with deals, he provides an irrefusable ultimatum to the 11th precinct. He tells them that they are mistaken: Lauren Sinclair is not part of Lune, like they—him included, he claims—suspected. Neither is he: he is simply the Purple Hyacinth, who has had the unfortunate luck of being planted as a spy in the same precinct as the officer who chased him down that fateful night. Rather than killing her, he has decided to oppress her into doing his bidding instead, spying on her coworkers, the potential conspirators hiding under Lune’s guise. Now that she proves herself to be of no value to him, he will kill her without hesitation. That is, only if they decide to pursue him nonetheless. He promises her life, in exchange for their ignorance. He doesn’t try bargaining for immunity; it’s pointless, given the decrees of the Royal Family. He will let her go if they simply let him go. Otherwise, he will not only take her life, but theirs as well. He may be outnumbered by far, but the Purple Hyacinth is not to be underestimated under any circumstances. He may also have told them reinforcements are on their way to finish the job for him, and that if they don’t leave in time, none of them will make it out alive.

Of course, this is a lie, obvious to no one but Lauren Sinclair alone. In fact, his entire speech is carefully weaved with a convoluted web of half-truths and lies, making it hard for anyone to fact-check his words in such a short time. She, too, is experienced enough to figure out what Kieran is planning: though it may look like he has her captive—she, too, still maintains her expression of initial shock—she knows that, in fact, he is letting her go. He is releasing her from the bond he initiated on their very first encounter, the bond she had no say in. He is cleaning the tracks that may prove her to be someone other than a traitor to the law, for he is the only evidence to that, the only one who can testify to the truth. He is proving to her, through blatantly monologuing his lies, that he would rather let her go, stop the entire operation, than let them— _her_ —burn. He says, implicitly, that from now on, she is the law-abiding officer who puts her life on the line to uncover the truth the city deserves to know, and he is the Purple Hyacinth, a monster who haunts your days, not someone to show sympathy for.

She wonders how long he has been planning this, how long he has been prepared to let her go, as if they didn’t strive against all odds to stick together because they know they can’t be apart. But whereas Lauren spends her thoughts in the past, Kieran lives his in sight of the future, and realizes the doom that awaits the two, no matter what branches of road they decide to traverse: the longer they stay together, the more they will lose, and they’ve already lost too much to lose any more. If life is all they have left, then let life be the sole reason they go on: that is the Purple Hyacinth’s secret. He’s lost everything he has, that the only thing he has left, that is his humanity itself, becomes the reason he fights to give back the Phantom Scythe what they deserve and stay alive in the process. He’s come too far to let all those efforts burn for a hopeless future; if he remains with the officer, _two_ will die without achieving their goals, and _two_ will lose whatever delusion of happiness with the other that they dare dream. At least apart, they have a chance: a chance to actually reach their goal, that their efforts haven’t gone to waste, a chance for a fair trial, and a chance to meet again alive.

She is light, and he is shadow, the absence of light. They are contradictions: one cannot exist while the other does. You can cast shadows over an area of light, but it would defeat the entire purpose of the light. As with fire on ice, as with poison and its cure, as with life and death, so are Lauren Sinclair and Kieran White: they cannot exist without losing themselves.

He does not give her a final glance as he leaves the cave, home to the deepest memories they share, which are already carved in his mind, in his _heart_ , or whatever’s left of it.

Kieran White does not need to see her to know that she is, and will be, mad; anger is the core of Lauren Sinclair’s emotions, after all. She has to be, to keep up with the story, to keep to the knowledge that she had always been the loyal cop, blackmailed into the assassin’s bidding. But moreover, she has to be, because it is the only way she can move on, his only reassurance that she will survive, will continue to work on _their_ common goal, will meet him at the top, and after they’re finished with the leader, will come to him herself.

He has upheld his side of the deal. It is now her turn to act.

_Promise._

◯

 **There are two sides** to every penny, back to back.

Neither can face the other, they simply have to trust that the other is there.

But the penny is one, made of the same material, 

and the two sides only hold value when they are in their right places.

◯

The penny spins.

**Author's Note:**

> **you survived!**
> 
> **thank you, genuinely, for reading this. i don't know why you would, but i guess we're all just a little starved for more PH content.**  
>  —
> 
> _now of course you don't have to read this but this piece of crap comes with a lot of struggles and decisions so imma list them alLLLL out:_
> 
> first and foremost, i definitely wasn't planning to make such an open ending. was going to end it high-tension, lauki style, but instead gave a (relatively) happy middle.
> 
> literally those last few parts were not planned at all, but turned out better than what i had in mind.
> 
> if you haven't noticed, i abused the thesaurus. don't like using the same word twice. i intended the repetitions and parallels (clearly), but didn't really plan on the occasional alliterations (even if it is a key part of the webtoon itself).
> 
> i paid too much attention to details none of you care about. it's fine. i'm satisfied with myself (but i'll never do this again, EVER).
> 
> oh and the gods made a cameo LOL now i'm tempted to make a whole series on that (read my other boring fic!)
> 
> will there be an epilogue? (i thought about this five minutes before finishing the ending.) we'll see.
> 
> i was rushing to post this because i'm a fast-pass reader, but i write the story stemming off the last public episode (ep. 57). (no fast-pass episodes were referenced in the fic.) so here you go, seven hours before ep. 58 comes out.
> 
> yes, my original parts were very weakly thought of. i write these not in my best mind. it takes me an hour to finish a short section. i write these in my depressive episodes. (that's why they're quite depressing themselves.)
> 
> (and even more irrelevant: you can literally _see_ which scenes i liked and which scenes i found frustrating. but also i write my thoughts in those parentheses, so they're not implicit at all.
> 
> you can also see how much i love kieran. i'm not glorifying or romanticizing his acts, but they deserve some credit.)
> 
> —
> 
> that's it. see you in the next month or so, when i've caught up with all the lectures i ignored to write this.


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